


Hold the Day

by itsreallylaterightnow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Army men, Castiel Watches Over Dean Winchester, Dean trades the Impala, Dean winchester driving the Impala, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I couldn't not write it after watching the video, I cried when i wrote this, I just did a bad thing, Impala, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), This is the ending to supernatural that Jensen Ackles had a dream about, Well - Freeform, You know the tis Tok sound, be prepared, etched initials, i'm sorry in advance, rumbling engines, sad ramblings, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/pseuds/itsreallylaterightnow
Summary: Dean took a long swig of the beer in his hand. Dust settled around the rim of his glass as he leaned against the side of the Impala. The beer was stale, but he drank anyways. Because today was one of those days that he drank to forget.orThe ending to Supernatural that Jensen Ackles had a dream about... warning: It is extremely painful
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	Hold the Day

**Author's Note:**

> I did a bad thing, but it felt so good
> 
> and that bad thing was writing this work. Because it made me very very sad. 
> 
> I have never written for the SPN world before, but I hope you guys enjoy this! I don't know if I will ever write anything for this fandom again. SPN has meant so much to me for the past eight years of my life. Consider this my final nod to the show as it comes to an end.

Dean took a long swig of the beer in his hand. Dust settled around the rim of his glass as he leaned against the side of the Impala. The beer was stale, but he drank anyways. Because today was one of those days that he drank to forget.

The Kansas heat bared down around him, but he remained wrapped in his dad’s leather jacket. He couldn’t keep much, wasn’t going to have the room for it. So he kept the things he needed. The things he couldn’t imagine living his life without.

The necklace Sam gave him was laying on his chest. The colt and pictures of himself and Sam resting inside a backpack alongside a few extra pairs of clothes and whatever cash he had stacked away.

Dean looked out at the fields of corn around him, his heart aching in a way he knew all too well. He’d felt it the first time he’d lost Sam. When Jake stabbed a knife straight into his brother’s back. Dean remembered all too vividly holding his brother, pressing his hand to the rapidly bleeding wound as Sam continued to grow limper in his arms, until all Dean could do was hold his brother flush to his chest. He remembered crying Sam’s name over and over. Sitting in a room with his brother’s body as the stench grew; not knowing what to do. Feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness as he screamed and cried.

He remembered leaning against the Impala, his face a wreck, his vision blurred, watching as Sam took back control of his body. Hearing his brother speaking to him as he took Lucifer and Michael to the Cage. Dean remembers every cell in his body screaming for his brother to come back to him.

He’d thought that would be the last time. That surely, he wouldn’t have to lose his brother a third time. It got so close, too close, when Sam decided to take on the trials.

But this was it.

The final nail in the coffin.

The one that would not be undone.

Cas had said as much. The angel told Dean that there was no fixing this one. Sam was… Dean took another chug of the liquor, a steady stream running down his chin before he slammed the bottle into the dirt road, glass shattering around him as drops of the liquid stained his worn jeans.

Dean turned, planting his arms on the hood of his car, letting his head hang down as tears began to well in his eyes.

He’d held him. For what felt like forever. Until Cas pulled him away. The Angel and Dean silently began to build a pyre. Dean had shredded up sheets from the trunk of the Impala, wrapping Sam’s body as tenderly as possible. The tears blinded him, but he’d wrapped enough loved ones to know how to do it by heart.

When Dean picked up his brother, he’d made it all but two steps before collapsing to his knees with grief. Cas had come alongside him, helping Dean up, helping him put Sam up on that pyre.

When Dean held the lighter, looking at the flame that whipped around in the wind, he’d felt it in his soul. There was no more bargaining. He’d bet his last chip.

The wind raged around them as Dean tossed the lighter onto the wood.

The flames raged, flicking back and forth angrily as Dean watched.

Castiel remained silent. Standing behind his friend with tears running down his face. Cas, from the moment he’d met the Winchester brothers, had known he would outlive them. He lived in the knowledge that he would have to watch Sam and Dean die. And standing there, watching as the fire took Sam away, he realized he had lost both of the brothers that day.

When the last coal flickered out, a wisp of smoke all that was left of the younger hunter, Dean grabbed the keys in his pocket and turned, walking to the car without a word. Castiel had just watched him leave. There was no need in trying to stop him.

Dean Winchester was the man who had given up everything in the name of making the world a better place. A man who had lost more than anyone would ever be able to understand. Castiel knew there was nothing he would be able to do to make that better.

So the angel resolved himself to watching. Hunting whatever he could and listening for a prayer to come his way. A prayer from a broken man that would come one day, much farther down the road, when the man was ready to have a shoulder to lean on.

Castiel could wait.

Dean remembered that day so clearly, the pain still prominent in his mind.

It wasn’t until he heard a motor running along the dirt road that he looked up from the dirt road and wiped the tears from his eyes.

The dust settled as the vehicle stopped, the owner stepping over to Dean. The two exchanged a few words, before Dean pulled an important item from his pocket. He looked down at the keys that he held in his hand, the square one catching his attention. He felt a lump form in his throat as he held the item out to the man in front of him.

“Take good care of her.” He managed to mutter around the pain in his chest.

He thought of the etched initials, the soldiers in the ashtray, the countless hours spent inside that car. What that car meant to him. But he realized it wasn’t the car that meant so much to him. It was what was carried inside that mattered. And without _him,_ driving the Impala was nothing more than a painful reminder.

The man took the keys before tossing his own to Dean. The eldest Winchester watched as the trade took place. The man slid into the front seat, starting up the Impala. As the engine roared to life, Dean closed his eyes. He could so clearly hear his brother’s laugh in the rumble of the engine. Could hear the way the air conditioner rattled and the classic rock that played softly in the background as the car rumbled along road after road, carrying them on their next adventure. A soft smile rested on his lips at the memories.

When the Impala drove off, Dean watched until his car disappeared into the horizon. Then he stepped over to the sleek black motorcycle. Dean slung his leg over the single-seater vehicle and tightened the straps on his backpack.

He stuck the key into the ignition, listening as a foreign rumble overtook his ears. As the motorcycle idled in place, Dean pulled out one last, unopened beer. He popped the cap and poured the liquor onto the dirt road. Watching as the liquid splattered onto the ground.

“One for you, Sammy.” He muttered. When the bottle was empty, he carefully set it up on the ground. Dean’s hand found the amulet around his neck, and he carefully pulled it off. He took one last, aching look at the item in his hand, before he looped it around the bottle.

The man sat back up, revving the engine of the motorcycle, before he kicked up the stand and began to drive.

Dean drove down the road, the wind raking through his hair as dust flew past his face.

He would never know, but he was being watched that day. By an Angel in a trench-coat. The Angel had watched, tears in his eyes as the broken Winchester gave away his prize possession. Watched, as the man had driven off to go God-knows where. Dean Winchester had felt alone so often throughout his life, but this time, Castiel feared that it was finally true.

But as the Angel tucked the Amulet into his pocket, to keep it safe until the day the prayer would come, he knew the Winchester brothers would live long in the stories told of them. Every hunter on the planet would credit the brothers with the fate of the world. The tales of two boys and a very important car would be whispered for years to come. Castiel remembered something he had heard once. That if someone loves you, if you changed the life of just one person for the better, if just one story is told of the adventures of your life, then maybe you never really died. And, well, if that was true… then the Winchester brothers were truly immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you crying? Because I sure am. 
> 
> If you want to scream at me, talk about how sad we both are that SPN is finally coming to an end, or just generally rant about something, come holler at me over on my Tumblr! @itstimeforachange01
> 
> Comments and Kudos make me as happy as hamburgers make Cas!


End file.
